Broken In
by flashwitch
Summary: Post Star Trek: In to Darkness, Spock and Kirk talk and get drunk and talk some more.


**This is my first Star Trek fic, and I'm actually really nervous about it because it's such a huge and old fandom. So feedback would be awesome, as I have other plot bunnies scampering around.** **I didn't mean this to be a shipping fic, it was just supposed to be intimacy between close friends after a near death experience, but reading it back...well, make up your own minds.** **While this is set in Reboot!verse, there are references to events from The Original Series canon.**

* * *

Spock sat by the bed in the hospital. There was a strong smell of anti-sceptic in the air. The Captain would be getting released soon. Spock was waiting. He turned his head as the Captain entered, smiling.

"I got the all clear."

"That is excellent news, Captain."

"Yeah. It is. Now, you and I. We need to talk." Jim went over to the bed and put a black duffle bag on it. He grabbed the chess set from the table and the clothes from the locker and they disappeared into the bag.

"Do we?" His eyebrow rose and he stood up, hands folded behind his back.

"Yes. I need an accurate report of casualties."

"I had assumed Dr McCoy-."

"Bones wouldn't let me have the list. He said he wanted me to get healthy first."

"I see."

"But I've been released and I want to know. How many did we lose?"

"Altogether?" he stalled. "17 members of the crew died. Another 6 were severely injured enough to be unable to return to duty. 4 more have requested reassignment."

The Captain went entirely still for one pure moment, and then he grabbed the chess set and flung it across the room, pieces flying everywhere. One of the pawns cracked as it hits the floor.

"Damn it!"

"It is the first time you have lost a soldier," Spock said, trying to be reassuring but he is not well versed in the intricacies of human emotion.

"Soldier?" He stares at Spock. "We are not soldiers! We're not... we're supposed to be..." All the emotion and energy just faded out of him and he turned to half heartedly thump his fist against the wall. "Explorers, Spock. We're supposed to be explorers."

"Indeed," Spock tried, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. He bent down and started picking up the chess set.

"Since I took command, there were no casualties. Not one, until this."

"That is what I meant to refer to. Their deaths are not your fault."

"Kobyashi Maru, right Spock?" The look Kirk gave him then was downright cruel and Spock closed himself off and refused to feel the heat and scorn of it. Then the anger faded just as the emotion had done before and Jim just looked tired. "Come on. I need a drink." He held the bag open for Spock to put the chess set in, zipped it closed, and then slung it over his shoulder. "Can Vulcans even get drunk?"

"Not by imbibing alcohol, no."

"Really?" They moved towards the door and then out into the corridor. "Then how?" There was a pause long enough for the Captain to turn to his first officer, questioningly.

"Chocolate has a similar effect."

"Chocolate? Really?"

"Yes. Although I would appreciate it if you don't spread it around. There were some incidents when I was attending the academy with my fellow students."

"You got spiked?" Kirk wasn't amused as Spock had expected. Instead he sounded sympathetic and Spock was grateful.

"I did."

"Okay. It stays between us. But come on. We need a drink."

They left the hospital and headed across the square to a small shop. Kirk purchased a large bottle of scotch and several bars and bags of chocolate, and then motioned for Spock to follow him. They ended up at Spock's hotel room.

"May I ask why we are drinking?"

"We're drinking to remember and to forget." He twisted the top off the bottle and held it aloft. "To those who have gone before." Spock mirrored the gesture with a bar of Hershy's, and they both took a mouthful.

It was a while before either of them spoke again.

* * *

Spock was sprawled across the bed, his mouth marked at the corners with melted brown sweetness. Kirk was across the room, slumped down in the arm chair. Spock always marvelled at the way that Jim never just sat in a chair. He overtook it. Even now, tipsy and tired, Kirk was sitting in the chair as though it was a throne.

"You said that they were the first soldiers I'd lost. That's not true."

"I know, I know. We are not soldiers." Spock waved a hand and smiled. He had a nice languid buzz going on. He didn't often indulge, and he wanted to feel this a little bit longer.

"Well, that," Jim smiled, "but also..." he paused, took a deep breath. "You've heard of Tarsus IV?" Spock struggled upright and sat against the headboard.

"I have." He looked at Jim hard, trying to figure out where this was going. "I studied the massacre while I was at the academy."

"Then you know there were only nine survivors who knew his face. Their identities are protected, of course. You wouldn't know," he looked up and met Spock's eyes. "I was there."

"You were one of these survivors?"

"I was." He took a mouthful of scotch and Spock noted that the level of liquid had gone down considerably. "I tried... there was..." he shook his head and looked away. "I wasn't supposed to be there. My mother sent me. I didn't want to go. I thought it was a waste of time. She was still trying to get me to join Starfleet back then, and I really didn't want to. My dad had died because of Starfleet and my mother was away all the time for the same reason. Why would I want to join? She thought sending me to Tarsus IV would fix me. I was supposed to go stay with my uncle for a while, learn about colonies and interspecies relations. I think she mostly wanted to get me away from my step-dad before one of us killed the other." He let out a sad laugh and drank some more.

"Would you... do you wish to talk about it?"

"No."

"Then I do not understand why you brought it up. It is illogical to begin a conversation on something that you do not wish to talk about." It was maybe a little sharper than he intended, but this was painful for them both. The idea that Kirk could have died, been murdered, before Spock even knew he existed was unthinkable.

"I was trying to make a point, Spock."

"Which was?"

"That people under my command, people I was responsible for, have died before. I tried to stop what happened and I failed. Kobyashi Maru, right Spock?" he said again. "The unwinnable situation."

"I do not understand. If you have been through such an event, why would you refuse to accept that there are some things you cannot win?"

"You don't get it, do you? You really don't. When you've been through something like that, it only makes you more desperate to prevent something similar from happening again. I swore that I wouldn't let anyone who I was responsible for die again. I failed."

"You did what you could. You were young and you were not responsible." He paused and looked at Kirk for a long moment, forcing eye contact. "It was not your fault."

"Maybe. Maybe not." He smirked and toasted Spock with the bottle before taking another mouthful. "They're still dead, either way."

Spock didn't know how to respond so he ate a handful of Smarties.

* * *

"This is the first time people I have been responsible for have died," Spok said out of the blue sometime later. They were both laid across the bed at this point. "I was not expecting it to affect me so."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I know that. I did everything I could. My only regret is not contacting the elder version of myself sooner. I did not believe he would tell us anything though, which was reasonable as he told us he would not."

"They died doing their jobs. They died doing what they believed in."

"No. They died as warriors. And as you said, they were not soldiers. They were engineers, scientists, explorers. We should not have been there."

"I know. It was my fault. I should never have accepted the mission."

"You wanted justice."

"I wanted revenge."

"Either way, they're dead." Spock gave Kirk's words back to him. "Dwelling on the past is illogical. We should keep moving forward."

"Yeah. I guess we should. This five year mission. What do you think?"

"I think there is an entire universe out there. And this? It's just the beginning." Kirk reached for the bottle, but Spock held it out of reach. Jim pouted for a moment, before flopping back onto the bed. "It's going to happen again. We're going to have crew members die."

"Yes." Spock glanced longingly at the chocolate, but he and Jim had both imbibed enough.

"We're going to have to deal with it."

"And we will."

"I'm going to have to accept that sometimes you do your best, and still people die. You're going to have to accept that you don't stop trying until you have to."

"I do."

"We're all going to have to try and get along. Five years, Spock. How long before you and Bones kill each other? How long before we run into something we can't handle?"

"The good doctor and I have an understanding. And when we run into something we can't handle, I will tell you, you will ignore me and we shall win anyway."

"At what cost?"

"I do not know." He paused briefly, then spoke again. "Admiral Archer captained the first exploration vessel. The first starship Enterprise. It was not a five year mission, and he and his crew were sent on many other missions that did not involve exploration, but I would say it sets a certain precedent." He didn't meet Kirk' eyes. "He lost a good compliment of his crew, including eventually his best friend."

"No exact figures?"

"I could look them up for you if you so wish."

"Maybe later." Jim shifted, moving down the bed so he was lying down, the back of his head pillowed on his hands. "Do you think he'd say it was worth it?"

"I do."

"Hmm. Maybe I'll ask him next time I see him."

"Just do not allow Mister Scot to be present when you talk to him."

"He's still holding a grudge?"

"I believe they both are." They exchanged a smile, and Jim yawned. "You are tired. Get some rest. You were mostly dead recently."

"Aw come on! It was weeks ago. And I'm better."

"Sleep."

"Okay." They both shifted around, pushing the candy and the bottle to the floor, adjusting the pillows and blankets. Finally, they were both comfortable. Spock was lying on his side and Jim had his back pressed into Spock's front. They needed this closeness. "Don't take this the wrong way, but will you be here when I wake up?"

"Of course." Spock tightened his grip. There was nothing sexual in it, this closeness. They were both fully clothed and more than a little drunk. They needed to rest. Spock had dreamed far too many times of killing Khan and then getting back to the ship to find he had inadvertently killed Kirk as well. He needed this. He needed the proof that his friend was alive and as healthy as he ever was. He would never ask for it though, even intoxicated.

Spock would never ask if Kirk needed it as much, or if he'd just recognised the need in Spock. Either way, it didn't matter. They lay together and slept peacefully for the first time in weeks.


End file.
